


feliz navidad – prospero año y felicidad

by rumpledvelvet



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M, Mexican Keith (Voltron), Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 03:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13091337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpledvelvet/pseuds/rumpledvelvet
Summary: This is my gift forharmzzellarozeon tumblr!Keith and Lance come up with some traditions of their own.





	feliz navidad – prospero año y felicidad

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas!!
> 
> i really like the idea of qpp latinx klance so i..had fun with this. it's set in a happy post-canon where everyone is only a little traumatized.

Growing up in a non-Mexican foster homes and away from a huge part of his heritage meant that Keith had missed out on the sacred art of making tamales during the holidays. Lance had been offended by this ‘grave miscarriage of justice’ until Keith reminded him that his family was from Cuban and he didn’t grow up making tamales either. This lack of tamales in both of their backgrounds didn’t mean that they didn’t know how to use Google to make their own traditions. Which was how they ended up in the supermarket down the street from their house a few days before Christmas. **  
**

“Do you think we could use shredded chicken instead of the traditional shredded pork? Pork makes my stomach all rumbly and we’re supposed to be making our own traditions,” Lance mused as he and his platonic partner roamed through the aisles. They weren’t even in the meat section yet, but it was a question worth asking.

“We can do both, and you don’t have to eat the pork ones if you don’t want to,” Keith said simply, weighing a navel orange in his hand. Did they need oranges for the house? Probably, Keith went through them quickly. “Do we need oranges?”

Lance consulted his phone for the recipe, like that was what Keith was asking him. “Nope. Why would we need oranges for a tamales recipe?”

Keith blinked slowly, grabbing a plastic bag to put the oranges in. Lance was so very lucky that he was pretty and Keith loved him. “I meant in general, Lance.”

“..Oh! Yeah, I think so. We need corn husks, onion, garlic cloves.. I don’t think we need actual cloves, though.” Keith didn’t have the energy to explain that garlic cloves and cloves were two separate things. He had to save some energy for cooking, after all.

The list of ingredients went on for miles in Keith’s opinion but he moved along the produce aisle to get everything they needed. It would take a few days for them to dry the corn husks themselves – or so Keith thought, he knew absolutely nothing about actually making tamales – but they could marinate the meat and make the red chili sauce in the meantime.

“Oh, we need salt!” Lance exclaimed, his big blue eyes wide as if he hadn’t anticipated them needing seasoning while cooking. Keith worried about him.

“Honey, we have salt. We have four different types of salt because you couldn’t make up your mind from green salt, pink salt, kosher salt, and sea salt. We don’t need salt,” Keith said slowly, and with all of the patience that he’s gained over the years from dealing with Lance and the other paladins of Voltron. “Don’t give me that look, Lance, we don’t.”

The look in question was a charming widening of Lance’s eyes paired with a smile that had won the hearts of thousands of aliens around the universe proper, and had even melted Keith’s a little bit. However, the former Red Paladin had garnered an immunity to it and instead grabbed a tomato and squeezed it thoughtfully. Was that how you checked to see if a tomato was ripe? He really hoped so.

Lance batted his eyes for good measure and waited a few beats before he resigned himself to using the look for something he really wanted, like pre-made margarita mix or ice cream. Definitely ice cream. “Fine, we don’t need anymore salt. Do we need limes?”

“For the tamales or the margaritas?” Keith asked as he walked over to the lemons and limes and started feeling over each of them. If he got distracted by the texture of them, Lance wouldn’t say anything. He was good like that.

Lance gave Keith a wide grin as he picked up a lime and threw it into the air before catching it. “Porque no los dos?” Keith snorted, taking the lime from Lance’s hand and putting it into the little baggie for freshness. He loved this idiot.

* * *

When Lance woke up on Christmas Day the kitchen smelled amazing. The mix of spices and cooking rice reminded him so much of Christmas’ with his abuela when he was young that he’s struck by a sudden wave of wistfulness and nostalgia. It’s the sound of Feliz Navidad filtering through the AI system that Pidge installed the day they moved into their small apartment that finally gets Lance out of bed and shuffling his feet towards where Keith is working the masa harina into fresh tortillas. He’d been practicing, Lance can tell, but he’s still surprised at the ease with which Keith flips and makes every tortilla. Lance wondered how talented Keith would have been if he’d had easier access to his culture growing up, how happy.

But it was Christmas and his platonic partner must have woken up at dawn to slave over the hot stove so right now was not the time to get sad and wistful when he could be stealing tortillas and getting in Keith’s way as he moved around their tiny little kitchen.

“Feliz Navidad,” Lance sang along with the song as he walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms loosely around Keith’s waist. “Feliz Navidad~” Keith laughed, leaning back against Lance’s chest as he took the most recent – frustratingly perfect – tortilla off of the skillet and started to sing along.

“Prospero año y felicidad~” They sang together and Lance hooked his chin over Keith’s shoulder. He’d grown up with his abuelo singing this song on his acoustic guitar, strumming peacefully in the living room while mama and abuela cooked in the kitchen. They didn’t make tamales, of course, but arroz con pollo and Lance..kind of missed that smell.   
  
“The tamales are in the oven,” Keith said once they’d had enough of their song. “Also, check that pot on the stove there.” Keith used his wrist to point to a large ceramic pot on the stove. Lance raised his brow and uncurled himself from Keith’s back to move to his side instead. He lifted the lid of the pot and quickly covered his mouth to keep from screaming in delight. Keith had woken up at dawn to make tamales and arroz con pollo. He was ready to marry him.

Platonically. Could you platonically marry someone?   
  
“I don’t think so?” Keith asked, laughing softly as he turned to look at Lance. “Are you happy? I kind of..called your mom to get her recipe and she essentially told me to ‘wing it’. It’s almost done, do you want to taste it?”

“You called my mom?” Lance laughed a little breathlessly, grabbing a nearby fork and carefully sticking it into the pot to grab a bit of the rice. He could feel Keith waiting with bated breath as he tasted it and he might have exaggerated his enjoyment of the food a little to stroke is partner’s ego but it tasted great. “It almost tastes like mama’s.. She’d be proud.”   
  
Keith smiled, turning his head to kiss his cheek fondly. “She thinks you don’t call her enough.”

“She’s a Cuban mother, Keith. I could call her for three hours every day and she’d still think I didn’t call her enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on tumblr – [whitepeachpidge](https://whitepeachpidge.tumblrcom)


End file.
